THE Good Old Cause REVIVED.  

POets of old, about to write, did use  
T' invoke th' assistance of some friendly Muse:  
But now the Fashion's almost laid aside  
And Muse's place by Painter is supplied:  
Each puny Brother of the Rhyming Trade,  
At every turn, implores the Painter's aid;  
And fond enamoured of his own foul Brat,  
Cries in an extacy, Paint this; Draw that;  
Draw Conclaves, Fights, Plots, Fires and in a Ring  
Draw evil Councillors about the King.  
I fear, left being at every Fool's command,  
Painter, th' hast spent thy Colours, tired thy Hand.  
I'll not augment thy Labours, only see  
If thou canst find an ancient Draught for me,  
A Draught which taken forty years ago,  
Contains the Origine of England's woe.  
Look! here it is; now view a while with me  
How far those Dismal Times and ours agree.  
Seest thou a sort of Men, Demure, Precise,  
With Faces Screwed, and turned up whites of Eyes,  
Black Cloaked and double Capt, that Mounted stand  
Aloft, with sacred Comment in their Hand,  
Teaching with new coined Phrase, and uncouth Tone,  
Till holy Sister weep, and Brethren groan;  
From these, thou'lt say, is any danger nigh?  
In these fair Flowers do Asps in Ambush lie?  
Alas! Those Wolves clothed like the harmless Sheep  
Scatter that Flock which they pretend to keep.  
Peace flies their Aspect weresoere they come;  
By them God Scourges sinful Christendom,  
Against Rome's tyranny they Preach, in hope  
Of being one day each Man a petty Pope.  
Nothing can stand before their highflown Zeal,  
But down it must, be't Church or Common Weal:  
Puffed up with self esteem, they think that none  
Heaven Gates can enter, but their Sect alone.  
They're Gods true Israel, Saints that never fall  
When once enlightened by his Heavenly call.  
Whatever opposite to them, doth stand,  
With Egypt, Sodom, Babylon, they brand,  
Hence 'tis when Fire, and Sword, and civil Hate,  
Stirred up by them, have overturnd a State;  
When Horses feed in Temples, where before 
St. Paul's.   
With Prayers and Praises Men did God Adore;  
When Kings and Churches, sacred Lands are sold,  
T' enrich the Rebel Saints, will illgot Gold;  
Themselves by no less Guide, they Fancy led,  
Than jacob's Seed, when they from Pharaoh fled:  
Crying, while hourly they new Babel's build,  
Babel's o'erthrown, the Scriptures are fulfilled.  
Thus were they heretofore, thus are they still;  
Give them but Power i'll warrant for their Will.   

But Painter lets a little farther view;  
Next in the Scene appears a long robbed Crew,  
Who, 'gainst the King Rebellious Arms to move,  
Can out of Magna Carta, Treason prove.  
As heretofore some Commentators thought  
That all things were in Homer's Poems taught;  
All Acts of Peace and War, each useful Trade,  
Even how the Grecians well-soaled Boots were made:  
So can these Sages of the Law, with ease,  
In Magna Carta find out what they please.  
They torture her to speak against the King  
Where she herself (good Soul) means no such thing: 
Rich.   
From Bordeaux, Winsors, and Carnarvans Reign, 
2d. Hen. 6.   
Weak Monarches all, their Precedents are ta'en. 
Edw. 2.   
What grants, armed force did from those Princes draw,  
They now esteem as Fundamental Law.  
Those Kings, their Subjects first deposed, then flew,  
And are we therefore bound to do so too?  
Where Treasons past, fresh Treasons justify,  
That Nations Ruin cannot, but be nigh.  
What the fourth Henry and third Richard gave 
Both Usurpers.   
To gain the People, now as due they crave.  
Thus, what Usurpers and forced Kings have done,  
Urging as firm, they undermine the Throne.  
What serves the Royal Cause, they blast it all  
At once, by saying 'twas Tirannical.  
A pretty way Objections to untie!  
Like him that answered, Bellarmine 't' a lie!  
Who thus what makes against him may refuse,  
I'll call him Bungler if the day he lose:  
Is there no way then left, whereby to bring  
These popular Champions over to the King?  
Preferment is their end, their Only Aim,  
Stop but their mouths with this, they'll soon grow tame.  
But Princes, by experience rendered wise,  
Should scorn to use those feeble remedies.  
For one bought off, the yet remaining Tribe  
Will louder bark, in hopes to get a Bribe.   

Next these, the popular Nobles march along,  
Painter I almost think thou'st done them wrong.  
For their own Interest sure they ought to be  
The Bulworks to defend our Monarchy.  
Of all mixed Prodigies, none more abhorred  
Should justly be, than a Plebeian Lord.  
And where such monstrous Births do oft appear,  
Sad signs they are of some Disaster near.  
Part of th'ignoble Mass, obscure they lie  
Till quickened by a ray of Majesty.  
As out of Chaos, when the old World began,  
Rude Clay, by God inspired, became a man:  
So, by the Royal Word these Men refined,  
Start up new Creatures of another kind;  
Yet now ungratefully they seek t' o'erthrow  
That Power, to which their Origine they ow.  
Lucifer, once brighter than the Morning Star,  
The Rabble of Heaven seduced 'gainst God to War:  
Nobles, who in a Kingdom discord breed,  
Like him in manners, like him may they speed.  
They'd fain be Princes, favourites if they might,  
Since not, resolve to be Enemies for spite.  
Against ill Government they daily cry,  
Make long Harangues, and scripture Texts apply.  
Kings, to your costs they'll teach you, how unwise  
It is, such Polititions to despise.  
But Painter feign, for you and Poets dare  
Do all things, that these Men Court-minions were,  
Should we then happier, than at present be?  
Should Prince and People than ne'er disagree?  
'Lass! Of the booty might they have a share,  
They'd soon consent to fleece the Nation bare.  
Painter till then, let's bid them all goodbwye,  
And on the following Object cast an eye.   

Seest thou a needy rout, that next march o'er  
The Stage by Fate, or their own Folly poor?  
These Men, by want made bold, seek to repair  
Their shattered Fortunes, by a civil War.  
They care not be the Quarrel wrong or right;  
Where there's most hopes of gaining there they fight.  
Peace as a lazy Virtue they esteem,  
But love to Angle in a troubled Stream.  
To Pleas of right, they no respect afford,  
Nor knew a better Title than the Sword.  
Unless employed abroad in Foreign Wars;  
For want of work they raise Domestic jars.  
Religion in their Hearts they all deride,  
But make a show, as Interest them doth guide.  
Hence 'tis that they for ruling Elders stand,  
In hopes one day of sharing Bishops Land.  
Who else would mind Church-government at home,  
No more than I care who's made Pope at Rome.  
Now Scholar go, with one of these Dispute,  
By Scriptures, Councils, Fathers, him confute:  
Say what thou canst; Church-lands in t'other scale  
Will above all thy Arguments prevail.   

The hairbraind Rabble next the canvas fills,  
By Airy words seduced to real Ills.  
Cheated of Souls, Estates, Lives, all that's dear,  
Taught Arms against the best of Kings to bear.  
Fight for freedom, till a Yoke they drew  
On their own Necks, worse than ere yet they knew,  
Swearing they knew not what, yet changing still  
Their former Oaths for new, though quite as ill.  
Oh! Fatal blindness, could we clear those Eyes?  
Can we but make the simple Vulgar wise?  
Then might old Albion give proud France the Law,  
Of whom the Christian World now stands in awe.  
Then factious Spirits at home, by all accursed,  
Might spit their Venom till for rage they burst,  
We should not then, by home-divisions torn  
To our Friend's cause pity, to our Enemy's scorn.  
Ah! Might I see those happy days no more;  
For Earthly Joys high Heaven would I implore.  
These are fond Dreams, but Painter lets awake,  
And of the farthest North a Prospect take,  
Scotland a barren Climate, there doth stand,  
Possessed by People fit for such a Land.  
A Race whom mother Nature wisely hurled  
Into that narrow corner of the World.  
She never meant that they abroad should roam,  
But live among their ragged Hills at home.  
Impatient of her Doom, they oft have ttyed,  
T' enlarge their Borders on the English side:  
But still repulsed, they to their grief have known  
Their Neighbour's Valour, far above their own.  
Floddens and Muscleburgs unhappy Scars  
Yet mark with red, the Scottish Calendars.  
Hence 'tis although both Sceptres now are joined,  
That they retain still a Revengeful Mind.  
Bred up in Troubles which they wish, not fear,  
They'd fain disturb our peaceful quiet here.  
They're grev'd that Britain's Sun doth never cheer,  
With his bright Rays their Northern Hemisphere.  
But shining by reflection from afar,  
Let's them be governed by a lesser Star.  
Still for the Kirk, they Prelacy despise,  
And call it Popery in a new disguise.  
've heard how Knox, and his Genevian crew  
Of old, the Royal Diadem overthrew:  
And now they long to see those days again,  
Brave days when Saints did over Prince's reign!  
These Causes thus concurring all in one,  
Joined with a Nature to Rebellion prone.  
No wonder if from that Tempestuous Sky,  
Storms to disturb our Neighbours quiet fly.   

Conclusion  
Thus Painter have we seen from whence arose,  
The fatal Series of our former Woes;  
Naughts left; but first to meditate, then tell  
How far those times and hours run Parallel.    


To the KING.  
Great Charles, against whose Crown on either hand,  
Rome and Geneva all their forces band,  
Thou seest what Clouds the Airy Regions fill;  
Stand firm; the times now come to show thy skill.  
In Calms each Passenger the Ship may Guide,  
By Winds and Storms an Artful Pilot's tried.  
Keep fast the Helm, on either side to err,  
Is alike dangerous, in the middle Steer.  
This People common Father, hold on stills  
To do them good, although against their will.  
What real Prudence dictates that pursue,  
But slight the Murmurs of a giddy Crew.  
Thus had thy Father done, we ne'er had known  
A Tyrant sitting on the Royal Throne.  
Thus may thy Reign just, long, and prosperous be;  
Thou in thy Subjects, Happy they in Thee.   
FINIS.